


Say Yarp to the Dress

by Aja



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, Yuletide 2015, beautiful nick/danny, too good for this world, too pure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5470247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/pseuds/Aja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Local bobby gives thumbs up to gay marriage!  Or: two blokes and a fuckload of cutlery (and other wedding registry silverware)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Yarp to the Dress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kahvi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/gifts).



> Hi, Kahvi! I read your Yuletide prompt for this and was like "are you me" because I love Hot Fuzz so much I look like a blithering buffoon when i try to explain how much to people. And Nick/Danny is so pure, man. I won't do it justice, but have some fic. :)

When you came right down to it, Nicholas had always rather thought that he was a bit unlucky. Somewhere along the way, he'd heard that the best way to defeat bad luck was to outrun it. This was, in a nutshell, the reason he worked harder than any other police officer, ran two miles before breakfast, and distrusted the concept of weekends.

He distrusted superstition, too, but he also acknowledged that ever since the police had impounded his stolen childhood peddle car as evidence, he'd had nothing but bad luck. Being a model policeman had gotten him stabbed in the hand (still a bit stiff), dumped by his girlfriend (presumably less stiff now that she wasn't constantly having to ask him when he was coming home), and transferred to Sandford (full of stiffs, though they were working on that).

Nicholas considered Sandford its own special category of luck. True, there had been an unusually high number of people trying to kill him ever since he got there, but given the sheer number of attempts made on his life, he'd been lucky to avoid injury. And although it was true that he'd ended his first day as chief inspector with an exploding sea mine, apparently towns that had won Village of the Year received extremely good insurance rates, which meant that they'd earned enough money from the payout to build a new precinct _and_ invest in new police cars for the whole force (service). 

And then, of course, there was Danny, who also occupied his own special category of luck. On the one hand, Danny was Danny. He made Nicholas's day brighter, would listen and dispense wisdom at the least expected moments, and could be counted on to know the embarrassing secondary school secrets of every person in Gloucestershire. He had plenty of excellent backup uses for police notepads. Dogs universally liked him.  

On the other hand, he'd nearly died—very bad luck, very traumatic for everyone. On the third hand, he hadn't died, and was in fact nearly back to a full recovery. Nicholas considered this a very, very good piece of luck—but on the fourth hand, he wasn't sure that the amount of investment he had in Danny's continued survival was precisely on the up and up. 

"When's the wedding, you two?" barked Wainwright the third time Nicholas caught himself fussing a little too obviously over Danny's depleted appetite since his injury. 

"Hey," said Danny earnestly. "Official vocab guidelines state no queerphobia in the station." 

"Who's being queerphobian?" said Wainwright. "I'm only asking so I can get in on the registry. You know Ocado gives discounts?"

The odd thing about Sandford post-NWA was that people still said good morning to him in eerily chipper voices at unreasonably early hours of the morning. They still took an undue amount of interest in their neighbors, and in saving the church roof, and maintaining their image as a village of the year. But they also weren't secretly plotting to kill him. It was a rather refreshing feeling. Once the remaining few members of the NWA who hadn't been in on the whole conspiracy cult killing bit of it had been appraised of the situation, they were keen on restoring things to normal. The town even held a memorial for all the victims, which certainly went a long way to decreasing the amount of hate mail the township office was receiving after being splashed across the front pages of every newspaper in Britain.

But Sandford still seemed to suffer from a woefully inaccurate newspaper, because a few weeks after Sgt. Butterman's release from the hospital, the new editor of the _Citizen_ printed a touching story about their new police chief's attempts to nurse his partner back to health.

"Do they mean partner, or  _partner_?" said Nicholas, staring at the article after it wound up strategically folded on his desk with a Post-it from Doris reading, "Congratulations!" (smiley face).

"Policeman partner," said Danny unconcernedly from the opposite desk.

"I don't think that's a real thing," said Nicholas, frowning. 

"Oh, I dunno," said Doris with a grin. "Seems to me like you could cover both bases pretty well in the locker room."

Danny's rich tenor rang out over the laughter that followed, and Nicholas found himself frowning even harder. 

If Nicholas had suspected people had certain ideas about his relationship with Danny, the article in the  _Citizen_ gave the town tacit permission to offer salutations. The Aaronsons sent them both cards. Peter Ian Staker and Swan sent the two of them a fruit basket from the castle orchard. The hoodie wearers gave them slow nods when they patrolled together. Farmer Burnside and his mum offered to start a local chapter of the Gay-Straight Alliance to be held in conjunction with the weekly gun rights meeting. 

"I frmnup rihpluft frihngt merfed," said the caretaker who had replaced the dearly departed Webley on their next visit out to Ellroy Farm.

"I dunno why it bothers you so much," said Danny the next night Nicholas found himself on his couch watching the _Die Hard_ quadrilogy. (There was a fifth movie but apparently Danny was insistent that it wasn't part of the canon, which had ended after John McClane found happiness with a twink nerd half his age. Nicholas was dubious about that part of the storyline playing out precisely as described, but Danny did have an excellent memory for action subplots.) This was the first night Danny had felt up to a night in since the explosion, and Nicholas had felt indescribably relieved by it all. It was undeniably domestic: making sure Danny hadn't over-exerted himself during the day, making sure he remembered to eat his hospital-prescribed allotment of vitamins and vegetables, and then tucking him onto the sofa once he'd showered and changed into something a little more comfortable—Nicholas hovered near the bathroom just in case he needed a towel handed in—and fetching a pair of beers for the two of them.

"It's errant information based on a lack of proper sourcing," said Nicholas.

"That's quite true," said Danny. "But to be fair to everyone else, we are a little gay."

"That's a problematic assumption, Danny," said Nicholas.

"Ehhhhhh," said Danny. "We're a little gay."

"Well I apologize if I've been a little forward," Nicholas said brusquely, "but since we're obviously  _not_ in a gay relationship I didn't think I needed to police my behavior."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," said Danny, patting him on the arm. "You're probably a little sexually repressed, but that's nothing a few beers can't handle." 

Nicholas wasn't sure about the wisdom of this but he downed the beers anyway. "It's just that I really thought you were going to die," he explained to Danny on beer number four, while lying crossways on the couch with his head in Danny's lap. "I didn't like that feeling at all. But I hardly think that qualifies as sexual repression."

"It wasn't easy for me, either, you know," said Danny, patting his hair. "When I stabbed you in the notebook I thought I was never going to see you again. And when Dr. Hatcher was about to shoot you. And when my da was about to shoot you. And when Tom Weaver tried to shoot you."

"You took a bullet for me," said Nicholas fondly, reaching up to pat Danny's hand where Danny was patting his hair. Danny obligingly held his hand instead, and that felt nice. "Maybe this is just a confusion of gratitude with sexual attraction."

"Well, you could suck me off and see if you like it," said Danny reflectively. "Just a thought."

 "I think I need at least six beers for that," said Nick, eyeing him.

"Wellllll," said Danny, "I think if you call it sexual experimentation you can probably get away with four beers." He smiled encouragingly. "Plus you're in a really good position for it at the moment. I'm just saying."

"Huh," said Nicholas. He considered. He was relaxed and domestic enough to acknowledge to himself that so far he'd enjoyed doing things that were a little gay with Danny. He was also relaxed and drunk enough to acknowledge to himself that Danny looked quite handsome in black and was in fact very fetching when firing two guns whilst jumping through the air. And Danny was being very considerate at the moment, which just made him strangely enough all the more attractive.

"Well," Nicholas said after a moment, and then, "Huh," again, and then: "Why not."

And then, after applying himself to the procedural elements of the exercise, he did what he did best, and got to work.

 

 

"That was  _brilliant_!" said Danny in approval several orgasms and beers later. The orgasms and beers had sort of all blurred together until Nicholas couldn't have exactly said what number they were on in either case. "I'd say you'd make a great professional but there'd prolly be a bit of a job conflict there."

"Are you saying you don't mind," said Nicholas in a faint haze of booze and endorphins, "if we do this again? You and me?"

"Fuck, why would I?" said Danny. "I'm not the one who's having a sexual identity crisis, am I?"

"You mean you—you're gay?" said Nicholas, attempting to sit up a bit woozily. "Or bisexual or queer or what have you?"

"The correct term is  _pan_ sexual when one is attracted to all genders, Nicholas," said Danny calmly, rubbing sand out of his eyes (and honestly probably a bit of spunk, too). "But yes, I'm gay _and_  I even kiss other men on the lips. Like this, watch." He grabbed the cuddly monkey and demonstrated. Nicholas watched, hypnotized.

"So—you want to do this again with me at some point and you want there to be kissing?" said Nicholas after Danny had rubbed the monkey fuzz off his lips.

Danny shrugged. "I dunno, might as well since we're already a little gay and all."

Nicholas sighed. "That's not technically falling under the definition of enthusiastic consent." Danny's face fell. 

"It's just you seem pretty reluctant yourself," he said. "Under station regulations I shouldn't be trying to get you into anything you don't want to get into. Power differentials and all."

"But I just sucked you off and was sucked off in turn, by you, repeatedly," said Nicholas.

"You look a little upset about it," said Danny reasonably.

"I'm not upset!" Nicholas yelled. "In fact I'd like to do it again right now,  _with_ kissing!"

Danny giggled. "Well then, let's have at it," he said, leaning over.

"Right, let's do that, then," said Nicholas. He let Danny kiss him, which was much nicer than he expected, and also might have had to do with the velvet feel of Danny's cock hardening beneath his hand.  "You know, you might have a point about this sexual repression thing," he murmured after a moment. "I do have a long line of unsatisfied ex-girlfriends who accused me of devoting more time to homosocial bonds on the police force than my relationships at home."

"Service," said Danny, slipping him some tongue and tugging off his shirt.

"Yes, it's quite good so far, thanks," said Nicholas, shifting closer.

"No, I meant we're supposed to say police service," said Danny. "Force is too aggressive."

"I think you'll find my force very aggressive," said Nicholas, 

"Hey," said Danny. "I always did like a bit of manpower." And then he proceeded to demonstrate what he meant.

 

"Jesus christ," Nicholas said in the morning, when he rolled over in bed and found himself hit with the strong urge to give Danny a handjob, only to find Danny already awake and sneaking his own hand under the covers. "I think I might actually be gay."

"Well," said Danny. "In that case it's a good thing I tipped the Sandford  _Citizen_ off about what prodigious care you were taking of me and all."

"You what?!" said Nicholas.

"Hey," said Danny. "I couldn't have anyone getting the wrong idea about us, could I?"

He beamed.

And so, the Danny factor kicked in once more, and Nicholas soon resigned himself to getting equal shares of good and bad luck in the town of Sandford.

Good: He and Danny were an item, and seemed increasingly likely to remain that way.

Bad: It turned out Chief Angel really was the last person in Sandford to know about his own wedding.


End file.
